Even for a May day, it is a hot afternoon. Despite the heat, The Bombay Port Trust Gardens in Colaba is buzzing with activity. Once inside the park, the first hillock is where I am headed: to The Human Connection Movement session.

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Roughly a year ago this movement caught my attention. Back then, the initiative was still in its nascent stages, spreading to the other parts of the world from the Land Down Under. The movement urges one to connect with a stranger by gazing into their eyes. "Strangers are friends, see for yourself," reads the tag line on their Facebook page.

Upon arrival, I see only five pairs engaged in the activity. First impressions have me a little irked – there are more men here than women. I try to approach the group with the eagerness of a teenager keen on 'bringing back the art of bonding'. Between polite smiles, organisers Swathi Nair and Jenny Gada tell me how important it is to be comfortable with what is happening. "Take your time to choose your partner, and gaze for as long as you are comfortable," Nair tells me. The organisers also suggest not chatting before gazing. "The idea is to get to know them without words," Nair says, with a smile.

Later when I speak to founder Igor Kreyman, he elaborates on the purpose of the movement. "We are living in a time of rapid technological advancement; developing our digital avatars rather than nurturing existing relationships.

Not only are we living in the most digitally connected time, but also a very socially disconnected one. People feel uncomfortable hugging, and even maintaining eye contact. We have a global loneliness epidemic and through Human Connection Movement, we are trying to tackle this issue and shift the consciousness of what it means to communicate effectively," he explains.

Back at the hillock, I decide to time myself: how long can I keep up with this pseudo-hippie activity? Well, I like my share of namastes, vegan salads, and cruelty-free rolling papers, but the minute I am asked to relax and feel comfortable around strangers, there is pressure. Who knows which one of them will later look me up on Facebook and send me 'Hi Dear' messages, or worse, criticise my writing.

Spoiler alert: these are (some of) the men I met.

It was Man #1's first time and his awkwardness was palpable. Trying to fill in uncomfortable silences, both of us chat – hello, hi, how are you, what do you do? When we begin gazing, we break into nervous chuckles, but the awkward air is stubborn. Barely a minute into this, we realise the partner is where the error lies (like most partnerships in the real world) and politely excuse ourselves.

While he goes off to gaze at a new stranger, I decide to take a break from all this connection and sit under a dense canopy, giving myself a few minutes. Much to my chagrin, Man #2 approaches. I agree under pressure but he has me regretting this decision in an instant – "Oh you're a writer? That must be really easy," he says. His condescending attitude turns me off to the extent that when we get to gazing, I am bored, spacing out.

After these two uninspiring experiences, when Man #3 approaches, I am prepared for the worst – only to have a better experience. A more relaxed gazing session later, we decide to go out for dinner. His female friend, who like me, couldn't shake off the uncomfortable feeling, accompanies us. My friend, who joins us later, adds, "I wonder how you guys lived to tell the tale – the whole thing sounds lousy."

Did I walk out wiser and more connected with my inner self? No. But feasting on seekh kebabs for dinner with my new-found friends is probably the highlight of that Saturday.